Class struggle almost invisible at work, but not quite

Early one morning at an industrial park in Luna County, trucks honked their horns as they pulled out of the lot loaded with packages for delivery, stirring up dust as they pulled away. Gathered in a small greeting area were a dozen applicants for a part-time job supervising drivers. They were men and women, ranging from their early twenties into middle age. A few had worked for the company previously as seasonal drivers. Some had been laid off from other jobs. The official unemployment rate in Luna County stood at 18.5 percent, the highest in the state.

A young supervisor walked in with a cell phone, through which a Human Resources officer in Albuquerque spoke to the applicants. After welcoming everyone, the woman and her speakerphone jointly briefed everyone on the requirements of the job and the expectations of management. On the surface, the tone was pleasant and enthusiastic, and no one seemed to notice that within seconds the employer was talking of threats and punishments, that management was always watching and ready to discipline workers and their supervisors.

“It’s not pretty,” they were told repeatedly. No one batted an eye, either, when told the position was permanently part-time but they would be “allowed” to work additional jobs around this one; but they should not plan on vacations or “life events” for three to five years. That requirement didn’t raise an eyebrow.

Even among American workers who still get paid vacation days, more than half don’t use them all, either to stand out as an employee or to roll them over if they have that option. One survey found that 56 percent of American employees would rather have cash than time off. What is leisure in a culture where people identify themselves as jobholders first, and where wages have stagnated over decades as wealth has been distributed upward, and jobs with temporary or on-call status, irregular hours and earnings with no security, have become the norm? When you tell job applicants they should avoid “life events” for several years for a part-time job, and they nod, you are seeing a disciplined workforce.

The tone was cordial and professional, and as individuals everyone was getting along just fine, but the social relations were clear. Applicants were told bluntly they would be taking a side in an ongoing conflict. The speakerphone said, “The drivers are part of a union and they have their own point of view. They will challenge you because you are on our side. You will need to discipline them strictly — we’ve been doing that more and more. If that isn’t for you, you should withdraw at this point.” No one withdrew.

Unemployment isn’t “pretty,” either. This is the class position of the supervisor or foreman: to be an extension of management, yet without the security or privileges; still working class yet divided against other workers.

This remains a traditional way of arranging work: top-down management in an adversarial relationship with its labor force. Social relations like this seem unnecessary for the purpose of delivering packages. The struggle ensues because workers, managers and owners operate at cross purposes that have nothing to do with delivering packages, but with extracting as much profit as possible from labor at the lowest cost. In an enterprise owned and directed by its workers, there would still be issues of accountability and management, but the fundamental division of class power and interest could be rendered obsolete.

As individual interviews got underway, the last truck pulled out of the unpaved lot and drove into the sun.

Algernon D’Ammassa is Desert Sage. Write to him at DesertSageMail@gmail.com.